The House of My Youth

Part 6 - Goat Lady

Not all of my memories of The Old House revolve around The Ghost. There were plenty of other things happening. It wasn't as if He were active every day anyway.

One particular summer, all of the neighborhood kids hung out at a small hobby farm about a half mile from my house. I don't know who got us going there, but someone discovered the "Old Widow Woman" was kind of neat to hang around. She had an assortment of animals, including a half dozen Sanaan goats. Sanaan goats are one of the larger breeds. Generally, they are nearly always white, although due to "staining" they sometimes show other colors, too. They are an excellent milk goat. After I got married, I helped with the milking at my brother-and-sister-in-law's hobby farm. They had Sanaans.

Anyway, the "Goat Lady", as she came to be known to us kids, talked to her goats the same as though she were talking to us. She asked them questions, which was fine. But she expected them to answer, and should the appear to ignore her, she would stomp to them, put her face into their face, and demand an answer. I never actually heard the goats talk. In fact, they never made a sound. They just gave her these odd looks and she became satisfied.

I didn't know much about The Goat Lady back then, and failed to learn more later. Everyone called her a "widow woman", but I'm not certain she was ever married. She worked at munitions plant near where my mother worked. Supposedly, she made decent money, but you'd never know it to look at her or the farm. At home she always dressed in baggy coveralls and a baggy shirt. The house looked decrepit from the outside, and the barns and outbuildings were that dingy, weathered grey. Fence rails were broken down. Posts were leaning. The main buildings had huge holes in their roofs. It was this feature which makes up the story. And to us, the kids, she appeared very old. In truth, she was probably in her forties or fifties (you may think that's old, but now that I have passed the 50-tally I don't think so). Her hair was mostly dark, but there was plenty of grey there, too.

How long she had lived at this little farm before I learned of her I do not know. I just know that one day she purchased a good supply of plywood, shingles and nails, and decided to fix her barn and shed roofs. That is what drew us kids.

Kids are a lot like adults. They love to watch other people work. If they're young enough, they'll actually volunteer to help. We were young enough.

Apart from the roofs, The Goat Lady also wanted to mend fences. Soon she had a dozen grade school kids running around the farm and working hard. We were told we would be paid for our efforts. This really helped with enthusiasm.

But after just a few days the help began to disappear. Debbie, Sue and Helvie were the first to go. Chris and Dale went next. Then Delbert. Eventually, it was just Tommy and me. We would dutifully climb up on the machine shed roof (very slight incline - practically flat), the Goat Lady would raise up a sheet of plywood, we would position it, and then begin nailing. One day we ran out of nails. (Tommy and I had a tendency to bend them.) The Goat Lady put us in her car and drove three miles to the hardware store. Next door to the hardware store was a small cafe. She took us there and treated us to lunch. Then we returned to work.

By chance, Mother happened to drive by as we got out of the Goat Lady's car. She stopped and ordered me home. I made my apologies and got into Mother's car and we went home.

Just what the h*ll do you think you're doing?

Helping the Goat Lady fix her barns.

Why?

She's going to pay us.

No, she isn't. Just look at that place! She doesn't have any money. She's not going to pay you.

Yes, she will.

No! And it doesn't matter. You're not to go back there.

But, Mother.

No! I said no.

So, when Tommy came by the next day to escort me to the Goat Lady's farm, I had to tell him he was on his own. I told him Mother said he wasn't going to get paid. He didn't care. He spent the next two weeks helping her finish up.

When they finally finished their work, the Goat Lady paid Tommy and incredible sum for a gradeschool boy in the 1960s. No one else got paid. To get paid, you had to stick it through to the end. Only Tommy did, so only Tommy got paid.

I remember telling Mother this, but she just dismissed it. Looking back on it I expect she feared the Goat Lady was some kind of pervert. She wasn't. She was just a little old lady with a farm. And enough money to make Tommy's summer. He gloated it over us for a long time.

Not sure why this story came to mind. Not sure it has much of a point, other than to say I always felt bad about not sticking it out to the end. Believe it or not, it wasn't about the money, either.